


hope will fall tonight (with broken wings)

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: It seemed at times that she couldn't even remember Angela's name let alone their past together. Huge gaps in her memory just... gone. Erased, somehow. But then other times it seemed... small moments were still there, fragmented in her mind.





	hope will fall tonight (with broken wings)

Angela could recall with ease the last time she'd been to the Chateau Guillard.

It'd been the week of Christmas, she recalled, as she'd laughed at Amélie's insistence that she not spend it alone cooped up in the Geneva base. "Even  _ Winston _ has somewhere to be, friends and family to spend it with," Amélie had scolded, half-dragging her out by her jacket sleeve. Angela had pointed out with some amusement that she was Jewish and didn't observe the holiday, but Amélie would hear no arguments. "So you planned on spending New Years' alone as well. Typical."

Gérard had been away for the better part of the month, though to Angela's knowledge Amélie had been altogether unfazed by his absence once she got Angela back to her apartment to pack a suitcase.

She'd been wary of the spontaneous drive to Annecy, and even moreso of Amélie's sailboat rental at the lake nearby. The winter wind had been brisk on the waves, nipping Angela's nose and cheeks pink with the chill, and Amélie had laughed about it, looking far too confident a captain in designer peacoat and scarf with snowflakes caught on her hair and lashes, leaning down to kiss chapped lips and cheeks with hand still steady on the tiller.

Of course, when they docked at the Chateau itself, Angela couldn't hide her admiration of the property, and her fawning set a pleased flush into Amélie's face as well. "It's alright," she demurred as Angela gaped at the way the snow and ice settled on the sturdy old walls. "It's a work in progress."

Angela remembered the way she was led up to the bedroom, up a labyrinth of halls and spiral stairwells, Amélie's hand warm on hers against the chill in the castle. Amélie had teasingly twirled her into her arms when Angela dropped her suitcase, and her laughter had been so airy and genuine that the cold bleak structure had felt warm and light with every gentle kiss Amélie had stolen.

She remembered the night it'd been finally clear out, and Amélie had tugged her out to the balcony armed with a blanket and wine for the pair of them. The world had been silent and still, an expanse of stars standing silent sentinel overhead, snow glittering like so many Christmas lights on the trees across the softly sounding seas. It'd been cold, she knew, it had to have been, but between the warmth of the wine and the blanket and Amélie's form against her, Angela hadn't noticed a thing. The wind had at one point lifted her hair from the nape of her neck to nip at her skin, but Amélie had soothed the sting with soft lips and softer murmurs.

The week hadn't been a love declaration, but it felt like something close to it.

Widowmaker's slow, sloping script in the letter clutched tight in her hand was so much like Amélie's that Angela couldn't help but wonder how Widowmaker remembered it, if she remembered it at all. If she remembered the way Amélie had taken her wedding ring off for the entire week, left it hidden away where neither of them could see it. If she remembered Angela's low whispers in German into the inky curtain of her hair in the still of the night, mumbling desperate avowals to her that she didn't dare let Amélie understand. If she remembered how cold and dark the castle had been in actuality, not the way Angela knew she'd fooled herself into remembering.

It was spring when Angela came back to the Chateau, and it seemed somehow to have fallen even deeper into disrepair than when she'd last visited. The grass came up to her knees, dotted with the pale blooms of lilies-of-the-valley. A few flecks of white against the lawn, more like the snowflakes that'd caught in Amélie's lashes than the blanket of snow that'd muffled the rest of the world out of their time spent together.

It was hardly the same.

Angela wondered if Widowmaker even recalled the snow from that week so many years ago. It seemed at times that she couldn't even remember Angela's name let alone their past together. Huge gaps in her memory just... gone. Erased, somehow. But then other times it seemed... small moments were still there, fragmented in her mind. Lilies-of-the-valley against the grass—stars against a clear sky—ice glimmering on distant trees. Years gone, the snow with it, but flickers of Amélie still pressing stubbornly through.

She had, for a long time now, wished desperately to know what Widowmaker still remembered. How much about Angela she could recall. She'd had so much to say to her still. So much she'd still wanted to ask her.

But as she lifted a fist to knock—as the door swung in before she could strike—as her breath caught under those piercing golden eyes that pinned her in place—

Angela found she couldn't remember a thing she'd wanted to say.


End file.
